


Penalty Kick

by theholidayclub



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, M/M, No Magic AU, gratuitous glances into Harry's head, where he mostly just curses and has inappropriate thoughts about our Draco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-11 02:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4417304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theholidayclub/pseuds/theholidayclub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where the boys are there to play soccer, but mostly there's a lot of hate sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One Where Things Start

**Author's Note:**

> In the hopes of motivating myself to update faster, and to have the whole story in one place, I've decided to start posting this fic (originally found on my tumblr queerdrcco) here as well. Part two is nearly done and will hopefully make an appearance very soon. Until then, enjoy!

It started quietly, and that was probably where the problem lied. If they’d done it wrong, if they’d ruined each other, gotten too proud or too scared, things would have happened once and then - it wouldn’t have been good, but it also wouldn’t have gotten this far.

It started in the locker room, after a scrimmage. Coach had held them both back on the field afterwards, offering Harry advice and words of wisdom that were only a little it abrasive, congratulating him on receiving the captain position. Malfoy got a clap on the shoulder and a comment about trying out a different position, because he’s so versatile, and Harry started feeling a little light headed at that comment…

By the time they made it to the locker room to shower up and change, most of the team was long gone and the stragglers were on their way out. By the time the boys are stripping down and slipping into the showers, they were the only ones there.

Harry talks a lot of shit, but it’s not like he actually hated Malfoy. The blonde was just too easy to rile up, with all his ticks, and when he played like he had something to prove - it was kind of spectacular to watch.

And it wasn’t like he was _blind_. Malfoy was a good looking guy, something everyone (Draco himself included) could agree on, and Harry hadn’t been quiet about his preference for both teams since he first stepped foot on Princeton’s campus and learned that college was all about being yourself. So it wasn’t really his fault.

It was an anger boner. A ‘you have so much potential that you’re wasting’ boner. A ‘you seem a little tense and as your captain I can help you out with that’ boner. Natural, normal things.

And Malfoy wasn’t exactly helping things, digging through his locker with the towel slung low on his hips and his hair still damp and loose, unlike the usual style he wore it in. Harry wasn’t planning on doing anything about the attraction and he doubted Malfoy would be interested even if Harry _did_ want to pursue it.

“Congrats, by the way.”

Harry turned around, shutting his locker as he did. Malfoy was leaning against his own, shorts pulled on but still shirtless, and watching Harry.

“On getting captain,” Malfoy elaborated, rolling his eyes and turning his back to Harry again. “Although if you’re always going to be this dense, I might have to take that congratulations back. Was I talking too fast for you, Potter?“

He figured Malfoy might be bitter about Harry getting captain; he’d been up for it, too, and if the stories about his dad were true, he was in for a rough dinner with the Dean later for not getting the position. A part of Harry felt pretty bad for him, though not bad enough to give the captaincy up, or to take any shit from Malfoy.

“Didn’t realize you were talking to me. Figured you holding a conversation with yourself wasn’t totally out of the norm, you must have been pretty lonely growing up, big house and all that help and all.”

Malfoy’s locker swung shut, the blonde’s shirt in his hand as he turned back towards Harry, rolling his eyes. “We aren’t past childhood digs, yet? That’s a little high school, don’t you think Potter?”

"I was a bit busy doing this novel thing called _learning_ in high school - not all of us had money and a pretty face to coast through with.”

Malfoy smirked then, taking a step forward. “Did you just call me _pretty_ , Potter? I didn’t think I was your type. Aren’t you banging the red-haired idiot you’re living with?”

Harry snorted, unable to keep up an indifferent front at the idea of ever having any kind of relationship with Ron other than friendship. The thought of what Hermione might due to him if he attempted it was a sobering thought all on his own, even if he did find his best friend attractive like that.

The reaction he got out of Harry seemed to surprise Malfoy; one perfect eyebrow arched higher as he took another step forward. “Interesting - you mean to tell me that my dear captain has a _thing_ for me? However will I use this to my advantage?”

Harry leaned back against his locker, crossing his arms over his chest. “I wouldn’t go that far,” he said loftily, eyeing Malfoy, who’d abandoned his t-shirt on the bench behind him. “Besides.. I don’t play favorites.”

“Oh no?” Malfoy asked, standing in front of Harry now.

“Your drive still sucks and you’re a fucking ball hog. That didn’t change just because I think you’re nice to look at.”

Malfoy looked taken aback by the comment at first, but the surprise on his face melted into a smirk easily enough. “So you’re saying I could use some extra practice, yeah captain?”

Harry swallowed thickly, and then they were both moving forward, teeth clashing at the ferocity of the kiss, muffled curses between gentle moans. Harry’s nails trailed down the pale, unblemished skin of Malfoy’s bare back, while Malfoy’s thin, bony fingers got caught in the tight curls on his head.

The door to the locker room slammed open, voices filling the room as one of the guys teased the other about leaving his phone behind in his locker. Before he could even process what was happening, Malfoy had moved away, tugging on his t-shirt and grabbing his gym bag.

“I’ll text you later about those extra practices, Potter,” he threw over his shoulder, shoving past Dean and Seamus. He was out the door before Harry could even snark back at the blonde.

“Extra practices with Malfoy? Good luck with that, Harry,” Dean said, a genuine look of horror at the idea on his face.

Harry sighed, wondering if there was a way to pass the nerves off as irritation. “Thanks - I think I’m gonna need it.”


	2. The One Where Ron and Hermione Are Nosy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry spends time with his friends for the first time in a while, and regrets it rather quickly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At long last, part two. It took me much longer to get this out than I wanted, but I'm really happy with it and I hope you all are too! 
> 
> Cross-posted on [my tumblr](http://queerdrcco.tumblr.com).

Harry wasn't sure when it stopped being about just sex and started being about - well, he wasn't sure what, exactly, but definitely more than sex.

He'd thought things had been working out rather well, in the beginning. They won a game, he and Draco celebrated with a draft at some pub with the others on the team and a messy hand job in the back of Draco's fancy car afterwards, Harry's only distracting thought being what Lucius might do if he knew just what his son liked to get up to in the expensive present he'd gotten for making first line.

When they lost, things were nearly as good. It didn’t happen often, hardly at all, actually, but after a bad practice or floundered play, the pair tended to blow off steam with aggressive drills and a bet over who was louder in the locker room shower afterwards.

He hadn't spared much thought for Draco, outside of practice and such, at first. He had other things to hold his attention, like his classes, and working out plays, and _whatever it was_ that seemed to be going on with Ron and Hermione lately. The whole thing that meant Ron suddenly wanted to talk to Harry about feelings (not a subject he’d ever come to consider himself well versed in) and drive him absolutely mad.

But then he started noticing things; weird, little things that he never really noticed about anyone, let alone Draco. The way he leaned close over a paper while he wrote, on the rare occasion that Harry spotted him in the library. The way he never seemed to go anywhere without headphones, leading Harry to realize he had no idea what kind of music the blond listened to, but that he really wished he did.

On and on, throughout the week, he found himself picking up on the little thing, noticing these little habits of Draco's. He wasn't sure what was worse, the way he was picking up on all of them, or the fact that he was still remembering these facts hours and even days later, and usually at the most inopportune times.

He was getting very sick of Draco's smile when there wasn't a line at the coffee shop on campus – the image kept popping into his head unprovoked when he was grabbing dinner with Ron and Hermione, or crossing the campus with the pair. He was running out of alternative excuses for the misplaced cheer, and he wasn't sure his friends believed him anyway.

He wouldn't have believed himself.

That was a whole other issue in itself, of course - his friends. It wasn't that he didn't think they would support him. They'd never been anything less than happy for him when it came to his past relationships. They'd both adored Cedric, and Cho, and Ron had been over the moon when Harry had started seeing his sister. He took it harder than either Harry or Ginny when they called it quits a few months later, but any animosity towards Harry hadn't lasted for longer than a day, if that.

The same couldn't be said about Hermione's so called "torrid affair" with Victor Krum, back when the famous soccer player had come to the university to do a workshop with the team. He and Harry had hit it off rather well, and when Harry introduced him to Hermione and Ron, Krum had been instantly smitten with the bookworm. She'd been just as interested, or so Harry thought, if the pretty blush on her dark skin had been anything to go by, but since Krum was only visiting, it hadn't had the opportunity to really go anywhere.

All the better, considering Ron's reaction to the whole thing. He'd given both Harry and Hermione the silent treatment for the majority of Krum's visit, and when he did finally start talking to Harry again, it was really only to complain about Krum and Hermione.

Everyone was happier when he went back to Bulgaria.

That mess aside, and assuming Ron hadn't started harboring some crush on Harry the way he had been (or was still, to everyone's mutual annoyance and amusement) on Hermione, he didn't foresee any kind of issues arising if Harry mentioned that he had begun developing feelings for someone.

Dropping in a name, however, might stir up a bit more drama..

It was not a secret around campus that there was tension between Ron and Malfoy, and not the kind that was any kind of fun. They'd had issues since orientation freshmen year, and while Draco had both matured and (barely, but still) apologized for his pigheadedness, Ron had yet to move past it the way Harry and Hermione had.

Frankly, Harry thought Ron just enjoyed having some kind of enemy at this point, and that's why he was unable to let Malfoy's petty comments about money and class go. Stubbornness seemed to be a trait that ran in Weasley blood, and on Ron's worst days Harry found himself glad he and Ginny had ended before things got too serious - he wasn't sure how much of the attitude he could really handle.

\--

Harry didn't sit down and study with Ron and Hermione much these days – as they got closer to graduation, their schedules had very little in common, and the time they _did_ spend together wasn't usually wasted by textbooks and flashcards. Midterms were approaching, though, and if Harry was being honest with himself, he'd been letting his irritating infatuation get in the way of the academic side of school. He could use Hermione's brand of motivation, which mostly came in the form of guilt trips and college dropout rates, to actually get something done.

It worked, for a little bit. Sprawled on a couple of couches in the library, the trio worked in relative silence for an hour or so. They poured over their books and notes, comparing when they could, and for a while, progress was made.

Unfortunately, at least for Harry, his criminology notes were only ever so exciting. He couldn't even be blamed, really, for his mind wandering. So long as he kept his head down and eyes on the book, no one had to _know_ he'd let his thoughts get away from him. It wasn't like he could help it, especially since his attention had already sidetracked to the match last weekend, and his technique workshop with Malfoy afterwards.

He didn't realize just how caught up he'd gotten in the memory until Ron was snapping his fingers in front of his face, trying to get Harry's attention.

"Bit distracted, are you Harry?" he teased as he sat back in his seat again. Like Harry, he'd given up on studying as well, books shut and piled on the table in front of him. Hermione's notes were still spread out in front of her, but her attention was also focused on Harry instead of her work. The knowing look in her eye when she met Harry’s gaze was far too smug for his comfort.

“That a crime?” Harry asked defensively, readjusting his textbook in his lap and starring down at it.

Ron snorts, and when Harry looks up at him the redhead is shooting a pointed look in the direction of his book. Harry flushes and snaps it shut, dropping it on the table.

“There’s nothing wrong with being distracted, Harry,” Hermione said, eyes sparkling mischievously. “It’s obvious that someone – sorry, _something_ is on your mind. We’re your friends, you can talk to us about it.”

The grin on Ron’s face is blinding now, and Harry as cornered as Harry is feeling, he’s also determined not to give the information up that easily.

“What exactly are you getting at here, Hermione?”

“Just wondering when you were planning on telling us about your infatuation with Draco Malfoy.”

It’s eerily silent in their little corner of the library, as both Harry and Ron processed what Hermione just said. Harry figured she had some kind of idea of what was going on, but he didn’t think she’d been that observant. He really should learn to stop underestimating her.

“How long have you known?” he asked, but before Hermione even has a chance to open her mouth to answer, she’s interrupted by Ron.

“Wait a minute – Malfoy? I knew you had a thing for someone, but _Malfoy_? Why don’t you just date your goalie, what’s his name, Justin? He’s gay, innit he?” Ron has sat up by this point, leaned forward in his seat and fixing Harry with a rather frightening gaze.

Hermione rolled her eyes so hard Harry worried they might fall out of her head, huffing indignantly. “It doesn’t work that way, Ronald. Harry doesn’t want to date a guy just because he’s gay.”

“I know _that_ ,” Ron argued stubbornly. “But Justin’s a decent guy, and he and Harry are friends, I guess. My point is that, you know, Harry would have a better chance of him than ever getting with Malfoy.”

Harry flushed then, the heat spreading down his neck in a shade that put Ron’s hair to shame, thinking about just how much luck he’d already had “getting with Malfoy”. He ducked his head, running a hand over his hair and hoping neither of his friends noticed the blush before it faded.

The looks on both of their faces when he risked glancing back up told him that they had, in fact, noticed. Defeated, Harry stretched himself out on the couch and grabbed one of the spare cushions, hugging it to his chest.

“Maybe I should just start from the beginning.”


End file.
